All the Words I Could Never Say
by Mint Tea Rose
Summary: I have gone by many names in my life. Danielle, Nicole, Josie, Sophie. Each one represents a part of my life. Slave, gypsy, healer, runaway. Now, a corrupt king is searching for me, I’m constantly running, and all I want is a place to call home.
1. Chapter 1

A note from the author: Hello everyone, here is the first chapter of the long awaited story by Mint Tea Rose (ha, ha). This is an original work and any similarities to any other stories are completely coincidental. I hope you enjoy!

Please review, this is my first fic and I have spent a lot of time on it. I would also like to thank my betas, Verdant Wings and CascadeOfBeauty, both of whom have wonderful stories of their own posted, so check them out. Now, without further ado,

Chapter 1 Silence

"Promise me my darling, promise me that when the time comes to leave this place, that you will go without a backward glance. Promise me!" I could only nod, my vision blurred by the tears that were threatening to spill down my cheeks, as her hand went suddenly limp against my own.

"She is sleeping, you must leave now. Er, yes." The doctor mumbled as I knelt on the floor beside my mother's lifeless body. I knew that he was only trying to get me away, so he wouldn't have to see my grief, and that was fine with me. I slowly rose from my position on the floor and looked the doctor straight in the eye, willing the tears away. After holding his gaze for a few seconds I nodded my head and I slowly walked out of the room, ignoring the astonished looks from the doctor.

I went to my secret place, just behind the kitchen cupboard, the only place that I could be alone with my jumbled thoughts. I don't know how long I sat there, wondering and crying my silent tears, until Kathryn the assistant cook found me and shooed me out the door. Apparently no one else knew yet. I grabbed up my skirts and ran, this time not caring where my feet took me.

By the time I returned to our, no my room now, her body had been removed along with all of her clothes and personal affects. I glanced about the room with a sense of detachment, which grew from the new knowledge that I was alone in the world; no one could save me now.

That night as I lay there in the cold, empty room, my five year-old heart made a promise to itself. One that it fully intended to keep. I promised myself that I would never let myself get attached to anyone or anything again, so that I might spare myself the pain of separation. I cried myself to sleep that night, and for many nights after.

The next morning, as I was dressing, I thought about how little my life would change now that I was an orphan. I am still a "sometimes" servant as everyone called those too little to do any real work, yet not young enough to get away with doing nothing at all. Later that day, as I was weeding the herb garden, under the watchful eye of Helga, the surly head of the kitchen garden, I was summoned to see the mistress. My heart was racing as I walked the distance from the garden to Her chambers. I had never met her in person, but I always imagined her to be very beautiful, and very kind.

Timidly stepping into the room I glanced around at its opulence, and realized just how shabby it made my own seem. The bed was large enough that three people could sleep in it and not be crowded; there were silk hangings everywhere and the mirrors were gilded. To me it seemed _too_ fancy; I much preferred my sparse little room. Suddenly, I was knocked out of my daydream by the grating little voice of the mistress.

"Ah, so you're the little orphan, eh? Don't you know enough to curtsey to your betters?'' she demanded.

I curtseyed automatically, my mind on autopilot, my heart racing. _Is she going to take care of me? _I thought, _Or is she going to kick me out now that I have no mommy?_ The latter seemed most likely, but my five-year-old heart refused to believe it.

"That's better. Now, do you know why you're here?" I shook my head, still not looking at her.

"I asked you a question, and I demand an answer! Do you know why you're here?!" Again I shook my head.

"Answer me you little ingrate!" I saw her hand only moments before it made contact with my cheek. It would have brought tears to my eyes, but I had no more tears to shed. Putting a hand to my injured cheek I turned to look at the lady. She was older than my mommy, with lots of wrinkles and her hair was full of grey. She was dressed in a poofy red dress with huge sleeves and a neckline that showed way too much. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

"Forgive me, my lady, but the reason that this child doesn't answer you is because she can't." That was Sara, her maid, I liked Sara, sometimes she would give me some of the lady's leftover tarts as she returned her tray to the kitchen.

"Can't?!"

"Yes milady. Danielle has been mute since she was three years old. No one knows why."

"Thank you Sara" she grated. Exasperated, she turned to face me and asked, "Danielle, can you understand me?" I nodded.

"Do you know what happened to your mother?" another nod.

"Then you should know that there is no one to take care of you. You will either have to earn your own keep or be turned out onto the street. Is that understood?" I nodded yet again as a tear coursed down my cheek, but she wasn't paying me enough attention to notice.

"There will be no more playing. You are now to work in the laundry, doing everything that Annabell tells you to do. Is that understood? Good. You may go and begin work now." Walking down the hall I began to re-think my earlier assumption.

_No more playing, she can't mean at all; can she? I was going to play tag with Jenny and Ben tomorrow, they'll be mad at me, and never speak to me again. _I began to get hysterical now. _I've never worked a _whole_ day in my life. What will I do? Will there be naps? _The answer I found, was a resounding no.

Making my way to the laundry room, I realized that my life had changed, and not for the better. I just did not know how much worse it was going to get.

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Laundry duty was the hardest job in the house, everyone knew that. I worked from dawn to dusk, the fumes in the laundry making me vomit at least three times a day the first week, and twice I was found asleep on a pile of laundry by Annabelle and given a sound whipping for laziness, never mind that I was only five.

Each night I would collapse onto my thin blanket right after dinner, if I even made it that long without falling asleep. And every day I wondered if I had done something wrong that I was being punished for. I thought that if I worked hard enough that I could go play, but the harder I worked, the more work I seemed to get.

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The bags of laundry I was told to haul were nearly as large as I was, and if I let one touch the floor I received several lashes for dirtying the laundry, even though it was on its way to the tubs. I also became the lye fetcher, made to walk to the soap sheds and retrieve the buckets of the potent solution.

The first time when I returned struggling under the weight of a single bucket, being careful not to spill a single drop, I was beaten and sent back to the sheds and to return with no less that two buckets. I spilled much of it all over my arms and would have screamed if I could have. If felt like my arms were slowly being roasted over an open spit while someone was cutting large chunks out of them with a dull knife. Though in complete agony I still didn't dare to drop the buckets for fear of another beating on top of the pain I was currently experiencing.

Stumbling back into the sweltering heat of the laundry, I threw down the buckets and ran to a secluded corner to tend to my wounds. Uncorking my flask of vinegar (vinegar neutralizes the strong base of the lye) that had been my last gift from Sara, I poured it slowly over my ruined arms as silent tears coursed down my cheeks and mixed with the soothing vinegar running down my arms.

Wrapping them clumsily with rags I quickly returned to my tub, lest I be missed and beaten yet again. The next few days were pure torture. Two weeks later, however, when I finally removed the bandages I was amazed to find that I was completely healed, with a only faint lines to mark what had happened and those went away within a week. I thought that this was a little strange, but I was young enough not to dwell on it, I had work to do.

I soon proved to be a blessing to the other laundresses. They learned that they could slip a good portion of their laundry into my own pile and I couldn't do a thing about it. Once, when it first began, I tried to tell Annabelle, but she couldn't understand what I was trying to tell her, through gestures; she just gave me several lashes from her reed cane and screamed, "You stupid, insolent child! Too much work, is it? Why you haven't made so much as a dent in your pile in _three hours!_ I'll just have to beat the laziness out of you!"

Things quickly progressed this way until I was doing half of the laundry of the household by the time I was ten, as well as some of the more general cleaning duties such as scrubbing floors, turning spits and dusting. These were increasingly assigned to me as I proved myself competent enough to handle them.

Despite lack of food, for if I overslept or did something wrong during the day food deprivation seemed to be a favorite punishment, I was growing like a weed. Several times a year I had to use spare scraps of cloth to enlarge my pitiful garment since I only earned one new pair of shoes and a new dress every two years. So by the end of the two years my dress had ragged and patched sleeves, and my skirt, which started as floor length was above my knees, I didn't elongate it since this length was preferable in the heat of the laundry, but I had to add two broad multicolored stripes extending from armpit to hip. I also had to complete all of my own mending in my spare time since I could not ask anyone else to do it for me.

Sara was no longer able to see me and all of my former friends were still playing. I became a robot in the eyes of the staff, a being who only ate and worked, since my lack of speech prohibited the development of friends in a life when the only conversation is shouted over the slap of wet clothing hitting the tubs.

While I worked I used to imagine myself in the stories that mother used to tell to me. First, I was the queen, stolen from her castle, who has to slave away to earn her freedom; then the kitchen drudge who would one day meet her prince who would take her away from this life of menial servitude, but in my heart, I knew that there would be no princes for me; I would end up like my mommy, slaving away until the day that I die. . . but fate seemed to have something different in mind.


	2. Chapter 2

A note from the author: Hello everyone. A big thank you to everyone who reviewed, you've really made my week! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. And now, on with the show. . .

Chapter 2 Discoveries

The years began to blend together; everyday was the same routine. I am now eleven, or as close as I can tell, not actually knowing when my birthday is, only that it is sometime when the snow falls. I've figured it to be approximately half a month before the new year, the day that they light the candles in every window, candles which are supposed to help usher the new year in.

I sit in my room, unwrapping the filched apple turnover leftover from last night's supper. Closing my eyes, I make a wish, the same wish that I have made every year since my mother died: "Please, please someone, anyone who can hear me, please take me away from here" I would wish, "or if you can't, or won't, then please can't you just make me happy?" then I would blow out my imaginary candle and scurry downstairs to report for another day amid the never changing daily routine of my life.

But today I scarfed down my turnover and hurried silently down the maze of corridors until I found myself in front of the library door. The well oiled hinges made no sound as I padded silently into the deserted room. This had become a habit over the years, sneaking here to steal another book one morning a week.

This morning I returned the history book I had borrowed and allowed myself a rare treat, since it was my birthday. Rounding a corner and running up a spiral staircase, I found the shelf I was looking for. Standing on my tip toes I reached up and pulled a small blue book from in between two larger tomes, and cradling it against my chest I start to run back to my room to hide the book under a loose stone in the floor.

I am halfway down the hall when . . . _Bong_! The bell to call everyone to work Changing directions, I rush back down the passageway. _Bong_! Down the stairs. _Bong!_ A few more yards to go. _Bong! _ Oh no, the book. Standing outside the door I am stuffing it into the hidden pocket of my dress, praying fervently that I will not get caught. _Bong! _ I skid in just as the last note is dying in the air.

Trying to steady my breathing I attempt to walk nonchalantly to my tub, failing miserably, but everyone is too engrossed in their own work to pay much attention to anything that is going on around them. "Everything will be fine. It's my birthday, I have my favorite book and nothing bad can happen today." Yeah right.

"Danielle! Danielle, you are wanted in the Grand Hall." Annabelle's sharp voice broke out over the noise of the laundry. "Hurry up girl, don't keep the mistress waiting, you know what happens then, eh?" I certainly did know, tearing at the knot in my apron I threw it in the corner and nearly sprinted to the Grand Hall; my mind racing all the way.

_I must be in serious trouble to be meeting in the Grand Hall, I'm not even allowed in there to clean. She's kicking me out isn't she? She found out about the book and now I am losing my home!_ hysteria began to grab hold of my heart, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

Stepping up to the huge oaken doors I feel small and insignificant. Timidly I knock and silently step into the extravagantly decorated room. The floors were covered in plush carpets, there were divans and chairs everywhere, including some silly looking circular thing that came up to a point in the middle that I supposed was for sitting, and the most beautiful pictures adorning the walls. I would have stood there gaping had a shrill and very familiar voice not shaken me back to reality.

"Do _not_ stand there gaping, come here!" turning toward the sound of her voice I was startled to see two robed figures standing off to the side.

"The Searchers have come a little early this year, and _you _were not at breakfast this morning or you would have known." Under her breath, she added, "You, the one they're looking for, it's a laugh!" she mumbled under her breath.

"So I'm not in trouble, but they are three months early." I let my shoulders relax as I neared the two men standing before me. The Searchers are supposedly searching for some long lost somebody who was prophesized about, like, a hundred years ago, but don't ask me why.

Glancing around I tried to remember the exact words of the prophecy, it said something about "A young girl will grow up ignorant of her true heritage, she will be a slave in a great household and know nothing but misery and cruelty until the day she is tested and finds her strength. She will know of love, and then lose it, only to find it again when she least expects it." Blah, blah, blah. I really don't know why this is so important, but whatever floats their boats.

I am coming close enough to see that they're not the usual ones who have come every year for as long as I can remember. They seem younger, more dangerous to me. A sudden case of nerves causes me to absently scratch behind my right ear. _I must be coming down with a rash_, says the only rational part of my brain that still seems to be working properly.

Standing in front of the men, I avert my eyes as I hold out my arms and spread my legs in the customary stance. Cold hands skim my skin causing goosebumps to run from my toes to the top of my head. Finished with my extremities, they move on to my chest, neck, and back. I close my eyes, this is always the most uncomfortable part about the whole process. I hate the feel of their long, bony fingers tracing the lines of my flesh and running through my hair.

Halfway down one side of my neck the hands stop and quickly pull away. I can hear them conversing in excited whispers, but I know it can't be about me. One nods and quietly leaves the room while the other begins tracing a pattern behind my right ear. _I hope that rash is contagious_, I thought sourly.

The door opened again this time three sets of footsteps could be heard approaching.

"Show me." A deep voice I knew to be the master's commanded. My head was roughly jerked to the side and eager hands groped at my hairline, pulling my long unruly locks out of the way.

"Impossible!" grated an all too familiar voice. "Don't tell me you think that _she's_ the one, just because of a _spot_!?"

"Please, gentlemen, you must understand this girl has been with us since her mother died six years ago, and I can attest that she has been searched every year. So, why is this year any different?"

"We don't know what causes the appearance of the prophetic mark, only that it happens at different times to different people. Which is why we continue to search the same households year after year."

"So, what does this mean, exactly?" Mistress asked warily. _Yes, what does this mean, exactly?_

"This means that this little girl has her destiny mapped out before her. More specifically, that she will come with us where we can watch and study her destiny as it unfolds, so that we might better understand our purpose on this earth." The Searcher added in a grave voice. _I could live with this. _

"But you can't just take her, she belongs to me and I demand some sort of compensation for the wretch." Her fingers twisted painfully, in my hair, as if this would somehow keep them from taking me.

"You will be generously compensated for the child, I assure you. I will give you two hundred crowns for the girl." _Wait a minute! Something is very wrong here! _

"Done." She grabbed the purse from their hands and shoved me roughly towards them. "That child's trouble, I hope you know. She's disrespectful, lazy, and stupid. But she is your problem now. Good day gentlemen." And with that, she swept out of the room, followed quickly by her husband. _Good riddance,_ I thought sourly.

"Come along child, we won't hurt you." The taller of the two said gently, sounding a little too much like a hunter, trying to coax a fox out of its den, for my liking. We walked towards the front doors, with one on either side of me, pinning me in, afraid that I might bolt at the first chance, which was an entirely correct assumption.

My mind was spinning, _what just happened?_ I asked myself, _I just went from Danielle the laundry slave, to Danielle the prophesized. I'm dreaming, I have to be. This can't be happening, I'm going to close my eyes and wake up back in my room, safe and sound, eating my turnover and reading my book. My book! _I'd forgotten about it, it's still in my pocket; _so I'm _not_ dreaming, and this is really happening_. Dazed at my discovery of consciousness, I followed submissively to the waiting carriage.

It was a great huge thing, wide enough to seat three people across and the aisle's had enough room so even the tallest man could stretch out his legs in comfort. Climbing in I was suddenly hit with my mothers last words. "promise me that when the time comes that you will leave this place without a backwards glance," _I am mother, I am finally leaving, just like I promised._

As I was settling into a seat by the window the other two men climbed in and took up their respective positions on each side of the other door. I sat there, fighting the urge not to stare out the window at the retreating sight of the only home I had ever known. Somewhere deep inside, I knew that I would never return, and somehow, inexplicably, I was saddened by that knowledge.

There was a heavy silence in the carriage, my traveling companions were up to something, Tall man kept shooting furtive glances at the other man, but every time the other man gave a quick shake of his head and returned his gaze out the window. After five minutes of this, the man finally nodded and the carriage began to slow. _We can't be there already. I've never left the house, but I would have noticed if there had been a sect of philosophical monks living nearby. _

By the side of the road lay a ramshackle horseless cart with a cloth covering the bed of the wagon. The cart stopped and the door was flung open by the driver of the coach. A large hand grabbed me roughly by the neck and threw me out of the carriage. I landed hard, scraping my arms and face against the sharp rocks in the road. The voice that had once been soft and meek became harsh and gruff as it taunted, "Slaves do not ride in carriages, they run behind the cart! Ha, ha, ha, ha."

_I hate it when I'm right. _


	3. Chapter 3

A note from the author: I present to you another chapter. Thanks again to my betas and a big thank you to all of you who reviewed. As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

**Warning:** Darker chapters ahead.

Chapter 3 the Dark

I was frozen in place, fear paralyzing my muscles, not even allowing me the relief of breath. I could hear the creak of the carriage as someone stepped from it.

"Rog, Burn the carriage and the bodies. Oh, and these too, can't let 'em be found now can we.?" I dared a glance toward the wagon bed, and immediately wished I hadn't. The cover had been thrown back, exposing its ghastly contents. The two searchers that I remembered from previous visits lay in bloody, mangled heaps. Their throats had been cut, and their bodies stripped of clothing, the clothing that my rescuers/captors now wore.

Turning my head I proceeded to empty the meager contents of my stomach onto the road. I tried to block the sounds of the men working, throwing the bodies into the coach along with the stolen robes, and dousing them in lamp oil. I had to shield my face from the heat that came from the burning carriage. It might have been beautiful if it had not been so horrible.

The man, Rog, I believe his name was, snapped out of his reverie first and set to work replacing the cover and hooking the horses up to the ramshackle wagon. The second man went around to double checked the cart for blood and to check on the supplies. The third man slowly strode toward me, a coil of rope suspended between his closed fists.

Yanking me unmercifully to my feet he captured both of my small hands with one of his own and began to bind my hands tightly together. Finally satisfied that I wasn't going anywhere he uncoiled the rest of the rope and tied the other end to the rear of the cart. Joining the other two soldiers, for that is what they surely were, the tall man whipped the horses into a trot. The rope quickly tensed and I went stumbling after it, trying desperately to stay on my feet. A quick glance at me and the driver urged his horses into a fast trot.

_I thought I was in shape, but I didn't have to run in the laundry, _I thought as I sprinted after the cart, grabbing the lead rope between my bound hands. I ran fast, trying desperately to keep up with the cart, grateful that I had received my new shoes last Midsummer. _Breathe. . .breathe. . . concentrate on the breathing. Breathe in. Step. In. Step. Breathe out. Step. Out. Step. In, in, out, out. _It was torture, after five minutes, my lungs felt like I had inhaled hot coals and my legs felt like jam that had been left too close to the fire.

On and on we went; until I could go no further. My vision suddenly went black and I was jerked off my feet. They were dragging me down the road, my feet leaving twin trails in the dust. I was too weak by now to pull myself up, and the horse was moving too fast. Fortunately, it only took the men two miles to notice that I was no longer keeping up.

Amid loud curses and groans the cart slowed to a stop and the soldiers levered themselves out onto the ground.

"'s she fakin'?" one of them asked, rather stupidly. As I lay on the ground gasping for air, I saw the boot seconds before it hit, but couldn't muster up the energy to dodge. It connected with a solid thunk and I heard several ribs crack. 

"Nope, she ain't fakin' Joe, didn't even make a peep. Load 'er up in back Rog, you'll have ta share tha back 'till we stop. Hope ya don' mind" he added slyly.

"No sir, course not sir." Rog replied meekly. I was picked up and thrown roughly in to the wagon bed like a sack of potatoes feet first. Calloused hands grasped my scraped ankle and clapped a large, heavy shackle to it. Pushing myself up to a half sitting position, I could only stare at the short chain that secured me to the back of the wagon.

_How?! How does this always happen to me, what did I do to deserve this? _I thought, as my mind slowly came back to me for the first time since I had been called to see the Mistress, so many hours earlier. _Have I done something so awful that this is my punishment? Or have I unintentionally pissed off whatever cosmic deities might be watching my uneventful, meaningless life? _I had only just finished reading the _Odyssey_ only a scant month before.

_I thought that I had a _destiny, _I thought I had a _future_, I thought . . . it doesn't matter anymore. I'm not special; I'm not important, just another _orphan_, to be sold to the highest bidder. I haven't even been outside for more than a day; for goodness sakes! Speaking of . . ._I let my thoughts trail off as I glanced around me at the lush greenery that enfolded the road, the topmost branches reaching across the road, intertwining with each other, nearly blocking out all sunlight and casting an eerie shadow on the world.

I suddenly became terrified. I didn't know how to survive outdoors; it was starting to get very cold _it was the middle of winter after all_, and I didn't even know how far it was to our destination _wherever that was_. Fear paralyzed my limbs, making me shake uncontrollably.

Rog, I had forgotten his presence entirely up until this point, silently laid a prickly but warm burlap sack over me, attributing my tremors to the cold, rather than fear. My mind drifted after that; never really focusing on anything, just letting things run through my head as they wished, not pursuing any particular thought.

I was eventually woken from my reverie by the arrival of dusk. I had never been outside for any length of time after that time and the prospect of doing so now was debilitating. The darkness descended heavily, suffocating me in its thick blackness. The forest looked so strange and cruel in the darkness.

What had once been long, leafy branches that sheltered a traveler from the heat of the day, now became the long, bony claws, reaching out to rip you limb from limb. The bushes and shrubs that lined the roads not an hour earlier, suddenly looked more like crouching monsters, watching you silently from their posts in the ditches along the way.

And the noises, the noises were the worst. I jumped at the slightest noise, imagining it to be some huge, bloodthirsty monster that would leap out of the shadows and massacre us at any moment. I curled myself as tight as I could go into a ball, trying desperately to make myself disappear.

The wagon began to slow and the soldiers jumped from the wagon.

"Seems like as good a place as any ta' stop, I don think Bessy 'ere 'd a taken another minute. Joe, make a fire an' set out the stuff. Rog, get that chit outa there and chain 'er ta the wheel or sommat as she won' escape." A hard hand snaked out and grabbed me by the chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. "But you won't run, will ya sweetheart? That would jus' be unhospitable, an you wouldn't want to be unhospitable, would ya? Cause that might mean we would' have ta get unhospitable, an' you wouldn't want that, now would ya?" there was a note in his voice that made my blood run cold and my stomach flop sickeningly. I shook my head.

"Now there's a good mouse" he jerked his hand away, whipping my head to the side knocking it painfully against the wagon's edge.

Once the fire was going and I was tethered to a tree just close enough to the fire that I wouldn't freeze, the food was passed out . . .and I got . . . none of it. I sent a pleading look to Joe as he passed by with the haversack filled with bread and cheese, but he just shrugged and shot a glance at the tall man lounging by the fire. He shook his head and proceeded to take a large bite of his bread. The only thing that I was allowed was a small measure of water, enough to keep me alive for the next . . .however long it took to get . . . wherever we were going.

"Sir, no disrespect intended but, why don't the chit get nuthin' to eat? An' why'd ya make her run this mornin', Sir? She can' be more than about ten, Sir." Rog asked, and my ears perked up.

"I'll tell ye why," and Sir, that being the only thing I can address him as, jumped up and grabbed Rog by the collar, nearly lifting him off of the ground, "because his highness specifically commanded 'er to be brought in completely weak. That's part of our job; weaken the girl afore we get there. Get it? Good!" and he gave Rog a shove that sent him sprawling flat on his back. He gave me a defeated look before crawling back to his blanket and falling asleep. Immediately followed by the other two.

Questions filled my mind but I pushed them back into the darker recesses of my mind, knowing that I would never get the answers to them until we arrived at the . . . _palace!_ _Oh goodness, don't even think about it!!_

For me it was a miserable night. It was _freezing_ cold, I had no blanket, and I hadn't eaten anything since that turnover I stole for breakfast. Added to that the monsters I kept imagining everywhere in the distance and the bloodthirsty beasts I heard in the distances, and I got no sleep whatsoever. _Happy birthday Danielle, _I thought forlornly, _Hope your next one is not quite so memorable; if there is a next one. _

I had never been happier to see dawn, even if that meant another day of running. Rog came over to untie me, and he covertly slipped a small hunk of bread into the pocket of my skirt. I flashed him a warm smile as he placed his finger on his lips, a smile playing at the corners of his eyes. He tied me back to the end of the cart and we took off at a walk this time.

Around noon it began to snow, slowly at first then increasing in intensity until I could no longer see more that twenty feet to either side of me. I could not help but be mesmerized by its swirling descent and the intricate beauty of each flake as it landed on the ropes and I caught a glimpse of a perfectly white, multi armed star before it was blown away by the breeze.

_Blasted snow, it gets _everywhere! _and it's cold. And wet. I have just realized that I hate the cold and wet! _The only experience that I had with snow is having to trudge through it in order to get to the lye sheds and even then I had borrowed a thick cloak from the many hanging on the nails by the door.

By suppertime it had started to accumulate. It was now almost to my ankles, and my shoes came only an inch above. Thankfully not much longer I was allowed to ride, once it was ascertained that if we did not press forward at a quicker pace, we would end up snowed in somewhere, or worse, stranded.

We did not stop for the night, only pausing for an hour in a tavern on the way in order to exchange Bessy for a Jenny. Unfortunately, that was just enough time for both of the drivers to get rip roarin' drunk and we had to stop every five minutes after that, so someone could heave chunks over the side of the wagon.

Everyone else slept in shifts, and we stopped several more times to switch horses and for everyone else to go into the warm building and eat a hot meal while I waited in the wagon huddled in Rog's cloak that he had given me when it had started to snow. Each time we got underway again Rog would try to slip me another morsel of food that I would wolf down when the opportunity presented itself that I knew that I wouldn't get caught.

Around day six the forests gave way to fields and the houses were seen dotting the countryside at regular intervals. We were getting close to the capital. And whatever fate had in store for me awaited me in the heart of that city, the place where I might finally get the answers to the questions that currently filled my head beyond and left room for little else: The Palace.


	4. Chapter 4

A note from the author: Thank you everyone who reviewed. I'm giving this to you a little early, mostly because I am losing my laptop in a few days and I don't know when I will be able to post again, I'll try not to wait too long. This chapter is rather dark, but I promise that it will get better soon. Leave a review, no flames please.

**Warning: Dark Chapter. **

Chapter 4 His Majesty

The roads became crowded as we neared the city walls. Traffic slowed to a crawl as guards stopped everyone attempting to enter, collecting the "entrance fee" of a copper coin. I highly doubted that those coins made it any farther than the nearest tavern. I glanced at them as we passed without paying, pitying them, for they were obviously freezing, standing ankle deep in the muddy slush.

Once inside the city, I gaped like the country bumpkin I was at the sheer enormity of it. People were _everywhere!_ I hugged my limbs and made myself as small as I could as we were jostled from all directions. As we delved deeper into the heart of the city I was surprised by how dirty and poor the people seemed.

I had always imagined the capital to be a shining city, filled with important people, running around on important business. Not full of half-starved ragamuffins being chased around by dirty women and half-drunken men, followed by mangy curs snapping at their heels. There was laundry dangling above my head, hung from lines strung across the roads from house to house, and noxious smells arose from the filth that littered the streets. A far cry from the clean cities of my imagination.

We traveled further and further into the maze of streets, into the heart of the city. Hours passed by, the sun began to sink behind the houses, and I started to get hungry and very bored.

Suddenly we rounded a corner, and there it was. The Palace. A dark and foreboding place, constructed of dark stone with bars on the windows, there were guards stationed every few feet around the perimeter of the ten-foot wall that surrounded the place. These guards weren't the lazy, ragtag men that I had seen at the city gate; no, these were heavily armed and stone-faced, and I did not doubt that they had no qualms about killing another human being. A shudder ran through me as we passed under the stone arches and I heard the heavy wooden gates groan closed behind me.The fear was sinking in quickly, making up for lost time.

A torch-bearing servant came running up to meet the driver. They had a few hushed words together, and then we were directed around back, to the base of the tallest tower. There were no torches here, and the light of our flame cast eerie shadows on the walls, shrieking faces and tortured goblins.

We stopped at a door, so well-hidden in the black shadows of the dark stone that I would have missed it had it not been flung open at our approach. My guards silently slid from their seats and onto the ground. I saw a flash of paper as it exchanged hands, and someone bent over the wagon and unlocked the shackle that was still around my foot. I gasped as the raw skin underneath was exposed to the frigid air. I took its removal as my cue to exit my temporary prison and head to a more permanent one. Crawling to the end, I tried to stand on the ground, only to discover that my legs wouldn't support me. I crumpled to the earth, too weak to lift my head. Whether it was from the fear, the hunger, the lack of sleep, or a combination of the three, I couldn't say.

I looked on, from somewhere above my body, as an unknown soldier lifted the limp form from the ground and slung her over his shoulder. She didn't move, didn't try to fight as the pair stepped through the tiny door and descended into the inky blackness. I caught a glimpse of Rog's face before the darkness enveloped me, and what I saw shook me to my core.

Down, down, down. Spiraling down a claustrophobic staircase, into the belly of the beast. Down a long, thin corridor, past barred doors and stoic guards. Stopping finally at a nondescript wooden door, in a sea of other matching portals, the guard took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

Stooping down, he took a step forward and slung me off of his shoulder, into the cell. Turning on his heel, he stalked out without a second glance, slamming the door behind him, blocking out all the light. The grating sound of a key turning in the lock was the last sound I heard for two days.

I slept, and fretted, and thought. And thought. And thought. I thought about what I had done to deserve this, and what he wanted of me. The other endless hours were taken up with games and stories I would play out in my head. My favorite story to take up my time was Cinderella. I knew it by heart, and would tell it to myself over and over again. Imagining that I was Cinderella having to bear a particularly harsh punishment at the hands of my wicked stepmother helped keep me sane in the darkness.

For a while, I amused myself with a something that my mother and I used to play, back when she was still alive and I could still speak. We would sit for hours trying to come up with nicknames, using our whole names. Sometimes we would make it into a game, trying to see who could come up with the most. I would always win.

I was fed once a day. At least that was as close as I could tell, not having a window in my cell with which to measure the days by the sun. I neither heard nor saw anyone bring it; I would glance at the door, and suddenly there it would be, a small lump of very stale bread and a tin cup of water. I would have thought it to be magic had I believed in such a thing. I didn't care how stale the bread was, or how little water there was. My only thought was _Food!!_ It was more than I had eaten on any one day on the road, and unbelievably I was regaining some of my strength.

Near the end of the second day I heard the unimaginable, unmistakable sound of boots on the hard stone floor. Several pairs. For a moment, my heart leapt into my throat. _Maybe, just maybe they are here to let me out, to tell me it was just a misunderstanding, maybe they're here to let me go. _Reason started to step in here, but just then a key could be heard in the lock and the door swung open, the brightness burning my eyes and blinding me for several seconds. I cowered in the corner with my hands over my eyes, trying to block out the light as two men stooped in through the door and proceeded to drag me out by my upper arms, one on either side.

My feet trailed on the stone. I was too weak to try to walk, and they seemed compelled to let me hang there. It's not like I weighed much. Down a separate hallway and through another maze of corridors we went, until suddenly we were standing in front of a large door, which had silver filigree trailing up around the bars and ending at the silver handle. The guards knocked once and entered the room.

"'ere she is, Yer Majesrsty, just like ya ordered." Both guards bowed, released my arms, and marched back out the door.

I lay there on the floor, unsure of what to do next. Should I try to stand, or stay down as a show of obedience, which I'm not sure I can pull off? I was so absorbed with my own thoughts that I didn't notice the man that strode across the room, until he was standing directly above me.

"Welcome, my dear. Welcome. I hope your rooms were to your liking," he began, in a silky, slimy voice. I kept my head down, unwilling to look at the owner of the voice.

"I've been waiting _so_ long for this moment; over eleven years in fact." He circled me, reminiscent of a predator circling its prey, just before it attacks. "So why wait any longer, eh? I know you must have a million questions for me, and I don't want to hear them!" He snarled, his voice changing, becoming angrier and rougher. "Let's get one thing straight right off."

He grabbed me by the hair, pulling me up off of the floor until the only things touching the floor were my knees and feet, with my hands limp at my sides. "You are here to answer _my_ questions, and if you refuse, you will be punished. I know that your mother told you all about your father and his . . .business before she died, and you will tell me everything that I know. Understood?"

He leaned down so his face was mere inches from mine. I was trapped under his intense glare. My mind went blank of everything, ignoring even the pain in my head as my hair was slowly being ripped out under the strain. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the horrendous sight of his wild eyes and nasty, yellow teeth, which were ground into a snarl.

"Answer me!" A solid _smack_ reverberated through the air as my head snapped to the side. I could taste blood where he had split my lip with his powerful backhand. I turned and looked him straight in the eye, and, fighting back tears, I nodded once.

"Good." He let go of my hair, letting me fall back to the ground. "Now, let's start with an easy question. What. Is. Your. Name?" My heart began to race as I lay there, resting my burning cheek against the cool stone floor. Stalling for more time, I ever so slowly raised myself into a kneeling position.

_My name! What is my name? I can't tell him the truth, mommy made me promise never to tell anyone what my real name is. She told it to me a few weeks before she got sick, when she invented the nickname game. I don't know what is so special about it; except that it's long. After that she told me another name, the one she used around other people. I don't know what the difference is, but I won't break a promise to my Mommy! _

Once decided, I took my finger and began to draw on the floor, slowly, deliberately forming each letter. D-a-n-i-e-l-l-e B-a-r-y-e. I was repaid with a kick in the ribs that sent me sprawling across the room.

"Liar! How dare you lie to me!" Another kick. "Tell me, what is your name?!?" Again I began to spell D-a-n-… A booted foot crashed down upon my hand, and I thought I heard the distinct snap of bones breaking. My eyes watered, and I wanted to scream. Keeping my eyes on the ground, I tried to pull back my ruined hand, but he wouldn't let me.

"Why do you not merely speak it, and save yourself more pain?" He twisted his heel savagely, and I heard more crunching. I shook my head.

"Let this be a warning to you." Another twist, and then he was gone. I cradled my hand to my chest, letting the tears flow freely. The guards returned, and I was dragged back to my cell. I collapsed onto the moldy pile of straw and raged inside my head.

_WHY??? Why me? Who is my father, and why does he think that I know anything about him? I don't even know his name, for the Goodness sakes!! Damn you mother! Damn you for making me promise, and damn you for not telling me anything! _I pounded my good fist against the floor and cried until I couldn't cry anymore.

A thought popped into my head that made me almost want to smile. I had just realized how much had rubbed off from spending a week in the company of soldiers. Annabelle had never allowed swearing in the laundry. She always said, "I'll not having dirty language soiling my clean laundry." So I had never learned any curse words. Now, I had a colorful new vocabulary . . . but no one would ever hear it. That thought made me almost want to cry again.

_How can I answer his questions, or deny possessing the knowledge in the first place, if I can't speak? I don't dare try to spell, not after what happened today. I'm as good as dead, aren't I? _

It was definitely a sobering thoughtReminded that I needed to do something with my hand, I set to work making a makeshift bandage out of a piece of my skirt, and then I bound my hand as securely to my chest as I could. With a sick feeling in my stomach, I laid down, and let the relief of sleep overcome me.

That night I dreamed of the candle holder that my mother had had, which she would use to get me to sleep. When you put a candle into it, it projected the night sky all over the walls. I could see it, all around me. The warm light dancing and skipping here, there, and everywhere. I felt just like a child again, safe and warm. I was afraid of leaving that dream, afraid of what I might find when I woke up, but soon I pushed those thoughts away and just enjoyed the calm that washed over me, making me forget the horrors I had experienced that day.


	5. Chapter 5

A note from the author; First I would just like to say a Big thank you to everyone who reviewed. You all make me feel wonderful. I would also like to thank my beta's again. CascadeOfBeauty and Verdant Wings, you guys are amazing. Now without further ado,

**Warning: Darkest chapter. **

Chapter 5 Ransom

I awoke slowly the next morning, loath to leave the warmth and safety of my dreams. The pain in my hand was incessant and would have made me throw up, had I had any food left in my tiny stomach. I vaguely wondered which body part he would focus on today, for they would certainly be back, and I would never be able to satisfy His queries.

When they did come, I was prepared. Alerted by their footsteps, I had time to heave myself off the floor so I was standing, ready, when they entered to take me back. Mustering up my strength, I walked to the door, nodded once to the guards, and then waited for them to take their places. I had two purposes for doing this. One, to unnerve the guards, to show that I was not as afraid as I really was; I had read stories of bravery and courage, and the heroes never showed fear. And two, to save my hand from being jerked out of its binding; while not as glamorous, it was a practical reason. The guards took up their stances, gripping my biceps, like they were afraid that I might escape, even though I had no idea where exactly in the castle I was.

All too soon we were standing in front of the familiar silver door. Not even bothering to knock this time, they shoved me in, bowed, and left.

I stood there, realizing that I was alone in the room, and wondering what to do. I glanced around for the first time, shocked by the bareness of the room. There was a small chest against one wall, and chains and shackles hung at random intervals from the walls and ceiling. A few wooden chairs were scattered around, and in the corner was a motley collection of mismatched clay jars.

I was curious as to the contents of the vessels, but hated to think what would happen if I was caught, or what I might find. At that moment, the door behind me swung open. Whirling around, I bowed low, a sign of respect that had been pounded into me. I hoped that he would take it as a sign that I was going to play along with his sick game.

"Have you come to your senses then? Are you willing to cooperate?" He reached up and traced his hand, from my hair down to my cheek, letting it come to rest in a loose grip on my throat. A warning. His hand suddenly tightened its grip. It was painful, but not tight enough to cut off my airway. I stole a quick glance up to his face and saw a look of confusion, astonishment, and anger pass rapidly through his features.

"Elisabeth." He spat, barely above a whisper. "I should've known." He was staring out above my head, as if remembering some long forgotten memory. "She hadn't the strength. That would explain it, though."

I couldn't understand what he was mumbling about, but whatever it was, it was obviously troubling him. He had lapsed into silence, while my mind was still trying to make heads or tails of what he was saying.

_Who is Elisabeth? And what does she have to do with me? Why did he get so angry when he touched me?_

"#& her!" he shouted, taking several steps back and slamming my back against the wall. "You are the reason she died. I knew that I should've questioned her when she was first taken, but no." My feet were no longer touching the ground. "Why risk her losing the child, when it is so precious to the father. There will be time later to question the wench." Sarcasm dripped from every word. "Well, it's too late now!" With one violent motion, he flung his hand away and dropped me to the ground, gasping for breath.

"I see I'll have to devise another way of getting what I want." And with that, he stole swiftly from the room, and I was immediately returned to my cell.

It was not long before my rational brain began to decipher the meaning behind his words.

_He blames me for the death of Elisabeth. Elisabeth was the woman he wanted to question, and he blames me for her death. She was with child so . . .Elisabeth is my mother!! But her name . . . what . . .was . . . her name? _It was at that moment that I realized that I had forgotten my own mother's name. _I had been so small, so oblivious,_ I silently raged at myself. I was angry. It felt like a cold stone had been dropped on my stomach.

After a good cry, one that never seemed to want to end, I resumed my intellectual journey. _Ok, so, Elisabeth was my mom's name. Yes. So according to him, she had strength, and she did . . .what? Obviously it was to me, but what? Took my voice? No, that's silly. How could she do that? My, this is starting to sound like one of my books, isn't it? Goddess I hope I get some answers soon. _Soon, my mind sought a reprieve from the chaos that was warring inside of it, and I fell fast asleep.

Over the next month I was beaten, burned, broken and bellowed at. I had injuries covering every square inch of my body. I was constantly in a state of agonizing pain. I never knew when the next "session" would be. Sometimes it was once a day, sometimes every other day, and even sometimes twice a day. I never knew when the next one would be, and I knew that that was all part of his sick, psychotic plan to break me, bend me to his will. He would have succeeded had I anything to tell. At that point, I would have done anything to make him stop. Even death was quickly gaining popularity.

After that day, the interrogation fell into a routine; he'd ask a question, mostly of the yes and no sort, and I would either nod or shake my head. If I nodded, then I would be led (or dragged, as the case may be) to a piece of parchment and a quill which I was to use to "explain further." If I shook my head, he would proceed to "jog my memory". I only used the parchment once, early on, to scribble furiously "I . . DON'T . . .KNOW_ !!!"_ Needless to say, I got an extra lashing for that one.

Amazingly enough, during this time I was learning more and more about where I came from, and what my family was like, based off of his ridiculous questions. I learned that not only did I have a father living, but an older brother as well, though both of their names were unknown to me, as well as their locations. No more was said on the subject of my mother or her untimely demise, but I could see it in his eyes, every time he looked at me, that he blamed me for her death.

"Well, my dear, it seems that you really know nothing," he conceded after a particularly harsh beating that had peeled most of the skin off of my back, which was now bleeding freely. He had also broken several of my bones, including my nose (again), arm, and half-healed wrist. I glared at him weakly from my position on the floor. "Which means that I have no further need for you."

I could feel a small stirring in my breast that could have been hope, but it was gone before it could take root. _He's going to kill me,_ I thought, but it didn't scare me or excite me. I was completely devoid of emotion.

"Very few adults can withstand a month of such attentions. Frankly, I'm surprised you're still alive," he drawled, staring down at me with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "But, then again, I do pride myself on my ability to keep prisoners. . . alive as long as I need." He strode slowly across the room. "So, I've figured a way to make this not a total loss. Would you like to hear what it is? I will ransom you back to your family. They will be so eager to get you back that they will pay me anything that I ask. I've already written the letter, and now all that it needs is proof that you exist."

He pulled a knife from his belt and sauntered back, toying with the wicked blade. "I was thinking a finger would do nicely," he drew the knife slowly across each finger, occasionally cutting through the skin, "but that might have sent the wrong impression."

He abandoned my hand and began twirling a lock of my hair around his fingers. "Hmmm, this might work." And before I knew what was happening, he had ripped it from my skull and was gone.

I didn't see him for a week and a half. I highly doubted that any ransom would be paid. I honestly didn't know how anyone was supposed to make a positive identification of someone they had never met, solely by a few strands of hair, but He was certain that it was possible and soon I began to dream of what it would be like to have a family again. I should have known better.

"It seems that your father rejects my proposal." Good gracious, was there never any _good_ news? After two weeks of waiting, I was summoned back to hear this? It was obvious, was it not? Male pride and all. "It's a pity, really, because now I'll have to kill you." His voice was flat, expressionless. It sent chills down my spine.

"You know, my dear, I am almost tempted to keep you. I could have quite a bit of fun with you in a few years. . . or sooner." He began playing with a lock of my hair, giving me a look that would become all to familiar in the years to come.

Forget the shivers that set my entire frame to shaking. I knew what he was talking about. I knew that things like this happened, and I also knew that to the victims, death would have been their choice.

"But, until then, you are a liability, and I can't afford that." I let out a sigh of relief, "But, I won't make it quick." _Damnit!!_ And then it started. And this time, he didn't hold back.

It took him two days to mutilate me almost beyond recognition, pausing only for a few hours each night to grab some sleep. Then it resumed. Using a sickening combination of knives, whips, chains and other gruesome tools, He took out his twisted revenge. Flesh was pierced and the still-healing bones were pulled from their sockets. Finally, as I was begging for death with every fiber of my being, he stopped. Slowly, he drew his sword. I cowered before him, one arm thrown protectively over my head in a reflexive motion, unsure of what he was doing.

"Say hello to your mother for me," he said as he raised the blade over his head for the death blow.

I closed my eyes and tried to scream. I felt something bubbling under the surface, fighting to get out.

The blade whistled down.

And the air around me exploded.

Hey look, a cliffy. I kinda' like those. Next chapter will be happier, I promise. Unfortunately, I will be on vacation for the next month and a half and I will not post until I return. dodges flying objects aimed at head. I will try to get some writing done while I am gone though. Please leave a review, and no flames please.


	6. Chapter 6

A note from the author: Hello readers! No I haven't forgotten you. I've just returned from my vacation and I am in love with Europe. Germany in particular. It is so beautiful there. Ok, enough from me. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. An author thrives on constructive criticism. Now, without further ado,

Chapter 6 Escape

_I'm not dead._

_Why am I not dead?_

_I should be dead, shouldn't I?_

Cautiously, I opened my eyes and gazed around me, searching for some clue. HE was no longer standing above me. Upon closer inspection of the room, I found him crumpled against the opposite wall, unconscious. _What the #&!! just happened? Never mind, I don't care. Whatever it was just saved my life . . . as long as I can get out of here. _

Quickly forming a slapdash plan, I retrieved my shoes from the corner where they had been tossed weeks ago and ran around to the door. I pounded on it urgently, then hid to the side and waited.

Seconds later the door was flung open and my guards entered. Upon seeing their fallen king, they rushed to his side. And I slipped out the door and into the hallway, pushing the titanic pain that coursed through my soul into the furthest reaches of my consciousness, knowing full well that I would have to deal with it sooner or later.

_Left or right? Which way? Left or right? Ok, there's only one way to settle this. Eene, meenie, miney, moe. Right it is._ Hurrying as fast as my body would allow, I made my way through the maze of corridors, hiding whenever I heard someone approaching. Every nerve was on edge. Every sound sent me scurrying for shelter.

I didn't think anyone had noticed my absence yet, but I didn't expect my luck to hold; especially with my wounds bleeding freely again and the back of my dress ripped away, not to mention the limp that I was trying so hard to hide.

Soon, much to my excitement, I found an abandoned cloak. I tore away a good six inches at the bottom so it wouldn't drag, and used that material to bandage up several of my more serious cuts. Pulling up the hood, I felt less exposed, and merely turned my face away when others passed, instead of cowering in the shadows.

_How does anyone get around down here? _ I thought as I ran into yet another dead end. I was about to retrace my steps when a voice from behind stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Hey, wot' you think yer doin' down 'ere?" _D#n, so close! _I slowly turned around, trying to figure out a way around him without giving myself away.

"I arsked you a question. Now, wot are you doin' 'ere?" Taking care to keep my face shielded by the hood, I attempted to walk nonchalantly around him, like I'd just taken a wrong turn, but he caught my arm. I winced and spun around to face. . . Rog?

"Hey, don' I know you?" I pulled back the hood and let him see my face. _No use hiding now_. "You, it 'tis you. I'd a wondered wot happened to you. Yer the one theys lookin' fer, idn'it? I dunno what you done, but you sure pissed off somebody. The entire guard's lookin fer you. Good thing I got ya first, idn'it?" _Yeah, you get to be the big hero. The one who brought her back. _I didn't try to fight him as he led me through another maze of corridors. What was the use? Why try to fight fate?

But instead of leading me back to my cell, or the "interrogation room," as I had taken to calling it, he led me to a . . . tapestry. A threadbare, faded tapestry that showed a family running down a hill, away from their burning house. Not the usual scene, but it captured my attention nonetheless. I sent him a quizzical glance. _Can we just get this over with?! _ I thought angrily.

But then he did something surprising. He lifted the edge of the hanging, exposing the entrance to a dark tunnel. I snapped my attention back to Rog, my face a mask of confusion and gratitude.

"This should take ya' to the edge a' the city, from ther, stick ta the woods and ye'll be fine. Take care a yerself kid, I've a feelin that you've a great destiny ahead a ya." I flung my arms around him for the briefest moment and then I was gone, scurrying quietly down the dark tunnel, which seemed to go on for ages, until I finally saw a speck of light at the bottom of the wall. _This would be my exit. _Since I had no idea where I was, I laid myself flat against the floor and looked through the space between the stones. It was dark, but I could distinctly make out a gate directly across the road. A city gate. Freedom.

Checking both ways to make sure the coast was clear, I squeezed myself through the tiny opening and sprinted across the road, fumbling the door open. There, across the field, was the safety of the trees.

Gathering up my last ounce of strength, I made a mad dash for the woods, only slowing when I could no longer make out the lights of the city in the distance. I kept going, not daring to stop for fear of being caught, even when my muscles were threatening to give out, and my feet became numb from trudging through the snow drifts.

Finally, the edges of my vision became blurred, and the ground suddenly pitched forward, and I was welcomed into the warm oblivion of sleep.

"Is she alright? What happened to her do you think?"

"I dunno, but she's in pretty bad shape. Let's get her back to the wagons and let Mary see what she can do."

"Alright, but how are we going to explain this to Ben? You know how he reacted to the last one we drug back."

"Aw, he's always like that. You watch, in a week he'll have her 'driving' the wagon for him."

"Alright, let's get her up, on the count of three. One, two, three." I was barely aware of the voices swimming around me. It didn't even register in my mind that these voices might have belonged to bad people, people who might have took me back

I awoke next, warm and sore, covered by a mound of quilts in an unfamiliar place. I tried to remember how I got here, but the memory wouldn't surface. Then it all came back in a rush: the ransom, Rog helping me escape, the voices.

The voices. Somehow they had made me feel safe, welcomed. _No, that's impossible. You're a wanted girl. There's nowhere safe for you. Not now. Think, Danielle. . .no, not Danielle. Danielle is as good as dead. _An idea began forming itself in my head._ I need a new name. But what? Oh, so many to choose from. It's amazing how well I can think in this condition. Why, I bet I could think the alphabet backwards—wait, off subject, sorry. Ok. What are my choices? Well, I'll want to pick something close to my real name. . .Oh. _I was struck by a sudden realization. _She knew. That's why she made up that game. She knew I would have to change my name, didn't she? How? Oh, never mind. So what are my choices? Let's see. How many ways could I change _Josephine Daniella Nicole de Barbarie? _Danni...no, too close. Nicole…nah, doesn't sound right. Sophie? Yea, Sophie. I like it, it fits me. Sophie it is._ A smile found its way onto my face.

"Well, don't you look good for a girl who's just had the holy tar beat out of her." I looked around for the owner of the voice and found a young woman, about twenty years old with her short, reddish-brown hair pulled back in a kerchief, and her wide, angular features twisted into a half-smile. She was crouched near my feet with a pan of water and a sponge poised above a wide gash in my calf. 

"I'm happy to see you're finally awake, but you are probably going to wish you weren't right now. I've had to re-open this wound and several others to clean them out and prevent you from contracting an infection. All of your joints are back into place, so that should feel better, though this is going to hurt like no other, so feel free to scream if you wish." _Ha, ha, haaaaaoooooooowwwww! _I curled my hands into fists, my fingernails digging into the flesh of my palms. You would have thought I was used to this by now, but apparently not. Or maybe that wasn't just water she was using.

"Hun, are you still with me?" She stared intensely at my face for a few seconds. "Can you tell me what your name is?" I shook my head. "Scheißa, I thought as much," she mumbled to herself. "Kid, can you speak at all?" I shook my head and turned my face away from hers, unable to bear the look of pity that I knew I would see there.

"Hmm." I could hear her tapping her chin in thought and I turned back to look at her. Focusing her attention back at me, she made several strange motions with her fingers and then looked at me like she was waiting for the answer to some unspoken question. I just gave her a blank stare.

" . . and apparently you don't know Traveler either. This is going to be more difficult than I thought. Oh well, I'm always up for a challenge," she said more to herself than to me. "Here, drink this and get some sleep, you don't want to be conscious for the rest of this." Grabbing for the cup, I downed the contents and drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

When I awoke again, the sun was starting to dip low in the sky. I quickly took stock of my pain and found that most of it was. . .gone. I could move most of my limbs without pain. Now, I was able to take stock of my surroundings. And my surroundings were. . . crowded. I was in a Gypsy wagon, reminiscent of the gypsy wagons that I had read so much about, surrounded by all of the earthly belongings of, I supposed, Mary. _Speak of the devil, _I thought as a familiar red-headed face poked through the door at the rear.

"Ah, so you've finally awaken have you? You've been out a while child. I thought you'd never come around.I brought you something. Wanna' know what it is? Of course you do, you're a kid, all kids love gifts. Well, you're gonna love this one." She jumped inside and proudly produced a battered chalkboard and a miniscule piece of yellowed chalk. "Now we can communicate effectively. You can write, can't you? Of course you can, you're like, what, nine?" Grabbing the proffered chalkboard and chalk I angrily made two vertical lines and turned the board around to show Mary.

"Oh, sorry, eleven. You don't look eleven. Then again, starvation can stunt the growth, and I can count every one of your ribs. I'll just have to stuff you with vegetables. That's what you need. Veggies. They will make you grow big and strong." Never having been a big fan of green things, I made a face. "They're good, I swear," she said, after seeing my look.

"Carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, mmm! That reminds me, I'm hungry. I've a bowl of broth here if you want it. I don't think you're ready for anything rich yet, but that'll change. Man, wherever you came from, make sure you don't go back." Wow, could that girl talk. I was having a hard time keeping up with her and her random thought tangents. I began to wonder if she was completely mad, or if her mind just worked that fast. I hoped for the latter, but I was leaning heavily toward the former.

"Ok, where was I? Oh yeah, can you write your name?" She asked kindly, handing me back the blackboard.

Hit by a sudden flash of memory, I was overwhelmed by the emotions that came with it. It was several minutes before I could continue. "Sophie" I carefully printed.

"Nice to meet you Sophie, I'm Mary—"

"Or as your friends call you, Scary Mary. At least, they would if you had any," interjected a warm male voice from behind my head. She flipped him the finger.

"And now we see why. Hello little one. My name is Evan, and this," I can only assume he was gesturing around him, "is the most prosperous, most famous caravan this side of the Simanah

River. Welcome home, sweetheart."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 Welcome Home

A note from the author: Hello everyone. I apologize for my long absence. I cannot promise that it will not happen again, only that I will try not to let it happen. Thank you to those who reviewed last chapter, it's good to know that there a few readers that I have not scared away, as always your comments always make my day. This chapter may be a bit rough, so please review and let me know where I could improve. Now, without further ado…

Chapter 7 Welcome Home?

"Welcome home." Those words were strange and foreign to me. I could not fathom what he could have meant by that comment.

"Stop it Evan, can't you see that you're scaring her? Or are you too busy looking elsewhere, hmm?" she cocked an eyebrow at him, while giving him a saucy look.

"Not in front of the girl, Mary. We're not wantin' to scar her for life, now are we?" came Evan's cheeky reply.

"Evan, can't you just admit when you're being a man?"

"Oh Mary, did ya forget what a man I am? Perhaps if you require a demonstration. . ." The slight lilt of his voice gave it a musical quality that I instantly fell in love with. I had never heard anyone talk like him before.

"You rogue." A blush crept its way onto her cheeks. "Why don't you keep your eyes on the road? We all know your driving needs all the help it can get."

"Aye aye, captain." There was a rustle as the canvas flap closed and he was heard from no more.

She gave a small snort. "Sorry about him. He's really a nice guy, after you get past the annoyingly chipper part. We've been together for three years." She got this dreamy look in her eyes that said a lot about her feelings for him.

The look was something strange, alien to me. Love. I had never had the chance to be around anyone in love. None of the women in the laundry were married, and I couldn't really see any of them being the wifely sort. The only couple that I had ever observed had been the master and mistress. And they merely tolerated each other.

"But we're not married, if that's what you're thinking." Mary quickly interjected, "I would like to wait until I've seen the world before I settle down and become just another obedient housewife."

I distinctly heard a muffled chortle from the driver's seat and barely hid my snort of laughter.

"So Sophie, where are you from? And what the hell happened to you?" This was not a subject that I wanted to delve into, especially around strangers, even strangers I felt oddly drawn to.

Choosing the coward's way out, I buried my face in the blanket, hiding the panic and indecision that flooded my features. Unable to stop them, traitorous tears flooded down my face.

"Is it that painful? It's alright, it's over now. You're safe here. We'll take care of you, and I won't ask any more questions. Just come to me when you're ready, and I'll be here." The look she gave me told me that she would understand, and that she would never betray me. _ How does she do that? _

"Now, we should be stopping right about. . . now. Good, now you can come out and meet everyone else." _Everyone . . .else? _"Oh, and don't worry about all of the bruises, you can barely see them anymore. Man, these local herbs work _good_. I'm gonna have to go scrounge some more up before we leave Lanok. Come on, hurry up, we can't keep Fiona waiting. She tends to over-salt the stew if you're late. She's rather vindictive. But we love her anyway. Ok, watch your step." _Madness. Yep, that's it, she's completely mad._

With only a small amount of effort I was sitting up and cautiously edging my way toward the door to the outside. My heart was racing and my muscles tensing fear and anticipation of what lay beyond that door.

"Oh, and don't forget a cloak, it's colder than a well digger's…uhm…we'll let's just say its freezing. Here you go, nice and tight." Next thing I knew a cold blast of wind hit me in the face and I had to stop to catch my breath back. As I stood there with my back pressed to the side of the wagon, I took quick stock of my surroundings. There seemed to be a crude camp, hastily erected in a clearing with several groupings of figures dotting the area. My eyes were watering too much with the cold to make anything out clearly, but I could detect nothing outwardly threatening about them…yet.

"Come on! Nothing to be afraid of, I promise you. Harmless as fleas we are. Exceptin' the biting part of course." She let out a quick chuckle at her own joke and then, impatiently, she grabbed my hand and began leading me across the snow-dusted ground toward the camp. It was tough going for a bit, my muscles having gotten stiff from a week's worth of idleness and some patches would be still healing, but soon enough they remembered their function and I moved more easily though with the same reluctance, toward the group of strangers.

Halfway there, I chanced a glance up at Mary and discovered just how tall she really was. At least 5'6", maybe 5'7". She had the build of a fighter, but at the same time, she walked with the grace of a dancer. _Maybe if I stayed, she could teach me how she does that. No, I'm not staying. I can't. I'm on the run. I did not make it this far just to get caught again._

My thoughts were interrupted when we arrived at the edge of a rough circle of logs and stools. This close, I could now tell that there were eight people, not including Mary and myself. Seven men and one woman. Four were dressed in dark leather vests, with daggers and swords slung casually at their hips. Soldiers or guards, obviously. The tallest of these men, and the most imposing figure of the entire band, was having an animated discussion nearby with a small, owlish man with square wire-rimmed spectacles. His hair was salt and pepper, and his mismatched, rumpled, road-stained suit made a striking contrast against the clean, wrinkle-free clothing of his companion.

Two other soldiers were engaged in a contest of some sort involving persimmon seeds and spitting, while a third egged them on from the sidelines. At the far edge of the group, pouring over maps and charts, was a heavily-built man with an air of confidence about him and the grit of the road filling the creases in his leathery face his clothing was of good quality, heavy material but was showing telltale signs of wear. I took him to be the leader of this rag-tag group.

Finally, near the fire, was a middle-aged woman. She was dressed much like Mary , in a peasant blouse and earthy skirt, with a scarf wrapped around her head and dangling precariously close to the fire. This, I assumed, was Fiona.

"Any food left for a couple of weary and starving travelers?" Mary inquired once we had reached the fire.

"Ye, Mary, are neither weary nor starving." She accentuated her words with a shake of her large wooden spoon. "But this poor creature looks like she could eat everything left in me kettle, and then some." I recognized the same melody in her speech that was present in Evan's. "Come sit ye down and let Fiona take care of ye. Go on now." Obediently I went and found an uninhabited corner and perched on a log, trying my best to blend into the scenery.

Mary returned shortly, carrying two bowls with Fiona in tow.

"Here you go Sophie, eat up." I took the proffered bowl and spoon with a smile of thanks and had it emptied within moments. It took the edge off but did not ease the hunger still gnawing at my stomach.

"Well, how was it? Judging by how fast that disappeared, I would guess as you liked it, then?" I nodded my head emphatically. "Good, I'll get you some more." She took off back toward the fire, leaving me staring at her retreating form in shock. The look was still there when she returned moments later with another steaming bowl. Tears were fighting their way to the surface. I'd never been allowed a second helping before. Taking the bowl carefully, lest I spill some of its precious contents, I flashed her the most sincere, brilliant smile I could before tucking the food away in much the same manner as the first bowl.

"Much better now, aren'tcha? Name's Fiona, by the way. And you would be. . . ?" I looked desperately at Mary, who had taken the seat next to mine, hoping she would intercede on my behalf.

"Her name is Sophie." Mary said, giving me a reassuring pat on the knee.

"And what's the problem that she couldn'tve told me herself, hmmm? You're too overbearing by half, Mary David." Fiona exclaimed in a huff.

"Aye, an' who are you to talk Oh Despot of the Dinner? 'Sides, I'm not overbearing, just a little pushy's all." She retorted, looking as dignified as she could manage. "The thing with Sophie is that she cannot speak. Nor does she know Traveler." She said, patting my hand in what I supposed to be sympathy, never having had much experience in that area.

"Oh, poor dear. Well, we'll just hafta fix that, now won't we? Now, let's introduce you to your fellow vagabonds." She grabbed my hand in a calloused one of her own and drug me off toward one of the groups, leaving a grinning Mary trailing behind.

They had just finished their spitting contest, it seems, as one of the group was strutting around like a prized rooster while the other two were good-naturedly putting up with his crowing, only flinging a few insults in return.

"Alrigh' cut it out you three, there be ladies present," she scolded as we neared them.

"Where, I don't see no Ladies!" commented one. He had hair the color of a raven's feather and eyes just as dark. They lent him a dark, almost dangerous appearance that sent shivers down my spine.

"Aw, come on 'Sander, you know what she meant," the second broke in. His hair resembled straw, both in color and the way that it stuck out in every direction, much like a haystack. His eyes were a deep green, like the fields in spring.

"Come on, you two, can't ya see we've company?" The third stepped forward. He possessed the most striking combination of features that I had ever seen. His hair was such a very dark brown, it could almost be called black, and his eyes. . .his eyes looked like they never decided what color they wanted to be, so they were always somewhere between blue and green, with a little gold dotted here and there.

"Alright, settle down now. 'Ere is someone I would like you to meet." She extracted me from behind her skirt, where I was trying unsuccessfully to disappear. "This is Sophie. Sophie, this is Kyle," she said, gesturing toward the auburn haired man, "Lysander, or 'Sander," the dark headed man, "and Nathan," the one with the unruly blonde hair.

"Welcome Sophie, we're glad that you could join us. Should you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to ask," said Kyle with a deep bow that nearly had me giggling.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you; Sophie hasna' the ability to speak a word, so I expect you all to help her learn Traveler; got that? And I wilna' have you teasin' or pickin' on the wee lass, do ya hear?" She paused and stared them down for emphasis. "Good, now back to work with the lot of ya."

Something told me that this was never a somber place, especially with those three around. And I was excited by that, but also afraid that I wouldn't fit into this world of laughter and fun, never having experienced much of it before. _Not that I was planning to_. I added hastily

"Aye, and this over 'ere is Connor, our Captain of the Guard if you will, and William, the bookseller and our clerk. He's in charge of all of the finances and distribution of the profits. Hello boys!" she called once we were only a few feet away.

"Why Fiona, what brings you over so far from your fire? Did you set your stockings on fire again?" The one I took to be Connor called out jestingly. "And who's this charming creature, a visiting Princess or a Duchess, perhaps?" He took hold of my hand, bowed low and planted a kiss on it. I jerked back in surprise. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you." I gave him a half smile, part apologetic, part thrilled to be around such colorful and seemingly true people.

"Sophie, this is Connor, he's one of the people who found you, Evan being the other." Not knowing what else to do, I dipped my head in a show of thanks. "Connor, this is Sophie."

"Nice to finally meet you Sophie. I was becoming worried about you, but Mary wouldn't let me near the wagon to find out. I believe I still have the bruise from where she hit me with a wooden bowl she threw. Watch her, she's got one mean throw and damn good aim to go with." He gave me a wink as Mary could be heard mumbling something about an 'iron pot' and 'next time'. I couldn't' help but laugh at the easy way these people had with firing off and taking insults. "I heard what Fiona said earlier, and I would like to help you learn the wonderful language known as Traveler."

I could do nothing but smile up at the tall man. And tall he was. Up close, I hit him almost at the navel. His hair was close cropped, accompanying sharp eyes and a well-toned body. And unlike the other soldiers, who seemed to be in their late twenties, early thirties, he couldn't be older than twenty six or twenty seven. I felt safe around him.

"And I'm William Buchanan, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear." The bespectacled man stepped forward and shook my hand warmly. He had to be fifty years old, as his hair was liberally streaked with white and his face was a roadmap of wrinkles.

"I don't mean to pry, my dear, but. . . can you read?" he asked in a voice that sounded timid at first, though if you listened hard enough, you could just detect a layer of steel under it. I nodded my head emphatically. "Good, good. Have you ever read The Iliad?" Again I nodded my head. "Wonderful, we'll get along just swimmingly, I can tell." And with that he bent his head again over his work and we were soon forgotten.

Still laughing, Fiona led us finally toward the last member of the group. He was busy poring over maps and figures and didn't even look up when we arrived.

"Ben? _Ben_?! Ben, this is Sophie, the girl that Evan and Connor found." He grunted in reply. "Sophie, this is Ben. Ben is our leader and boss. 'E's in charge of this 'ere caravan. 'E's the one who said ye could stay. In't that right, Ben?" This time he looked up, gave me the once-over, and spoke.

"You will be expected to help out some in order to earn your keep. The work shouldn't be difficult, and it won't last all day. You will work with Mary tomorrow until I decide the best place for you. You'll probably be most comfortable bunking with Mary tonight, though tomorrow we will have to find more permanent accommodations for you. Are there any questions?" A slight pause. "Good, now Mary will show you your bunk. Get some sleep, kid, we leave at dawn." He turned his attention back to his charts, leaving me trailing behind Mary, wondering just what I had gotten myself into.

_I guess I will have to wait until tomorrow. Then I'll decide on how long I'll stay. This is going to be interesting. . . I hope Mary doesn't snore. _


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 A Place to belong

Sleep did not come easily that night. And once I had found the bliss of oblivion, I did not stay there long.

I was dreaming of the cell, of trying to bandage my wounds, but as soon as I got one bandage tied off, I found another one somewhere else, and the faster I bandaged, the faster they seemed to appear. The blood coated my hands, was soaking into the fabric of the rags that I was wearing, pooling on the floor. I was reaching the edge of hysteria when I was shaken awake by Mary.

"Hush child, hush. There's nothing to worry about. Shhh, 'twas only a nightmare. Ssshhh. Everythin's gonna be alright." As she said this she was slowly pulling me closer. Not recognizing the gesture as one of comfort, I tried to fight back, then just gave up and collapsed into Mary's comforting arms. I did not let myself cry, but for a long time we stayed crouched in the dark, silent except for the occasional comforting noises, clinging to each other. I fell asleep there, for the first time since Mother died, cradled in a pair of loving arms.

I awoke the next morning to Mary's insistent shakes. "Up sleepy head, we've a busy day ahead.

If you're not out in 2 minutes, there'll be no breakfast." And before I had a chance to even open my eyes, she was gone.

Immediately I was up and straightening my blankets. Grabbing my shoes, I was outside, blinking in the predawn light in under 30 seconds. Habit, I suppose. Wandering toward the center of camp, I grabbed a seat and waited for everyone else to make their way up. A moments later there were sounds of activity coming from tents pitched near the edge of the clearing that I hadn't noticed before. A few mumbled curses and then a tousled blonde head peeked out. As he was blinking and squinting, trying to clear the last remnants of sleep from his eyes, the occupants of the other tents were making their way out and toward me.

"Morning Sophie" Lysander called as he began to stoke the embers of the fire.

"G'morn'n" a still groggy Kyle mumbled as he set about gathering wood.

Giving each a tentative smile and a nod in acknowledgement, I turned my attention inward and recalled the events of yesterday.

I had seemed so cool, so calm, so accepting. It was all a lie. I had lied to myself and it made me sick to my stomach. The way I had smiled and laughed along with Lysander and Nathan and Kyle. The way I had stood so calm while 'talking' to Connor. All along I had been terrified; shaking like a leaf to my core, pretending that this was normal, that I could live here. I twisted the fabric of my skirt as I thought of it now.

I had stayed awake most of the night, straining my ears for the sound of hooves that would announce the arrival of the guard as they came to take me back. . . the sound that would tell me what I feared the most. . . that I had been betrayed.

With the lifting of the sun in the sky, also came a lifting of my spirits. I was safe for a while to come. No one had connected the dots yet.

So lost in my musings, I had failed to notice that the clearing was filling up with people, and I was startled by a voice speaking into my ear. 

"Mary'll have a fit if she has to mend that skirt already." Whirling around, I was greeted with Fiona's wry grin. "So child, what be your mind, eh? What is it that kept ye from sleeping last night?" At my startled look, she settled down next to me, and leaned close as if to tell me some great secret. "Ye've got circles a shadow could hide in under them gorgeous eyes. That an' the fact that ye look as skittish as a deer tells me ye suffer from Night Terrors. 'M I right? Thought so. 'Mind me tonight to make you some of me special tea an' I can promise ye'll sleep like a babe." She pushed off of the log and began to make her way back over to the fire. "Gotta go feed this lot 'a beggars again."

I was writing a note on the chalkboard to ask what I could do to help when I heard it. _No! _It was the unmistakable sound of hooves. More than one set. _They're coming. They're coming for me. They're coming to take me back! _

Jumping up, my chalk and board fell forgotten to the ground as I frantically tried to make an escape plan. Nothing would come. The panic was taking over, shadowing rational thought. The need to run was dominating and within seconds I was sprinting toward the safety of the forest.

Maybe there I could find a place to hide until they leave. Then I will—_oompph._ Strong arms wrapped around me like bands of steel. Using teeth, knees, feet, elbows, and nails I fought. I struggled until I had worn myself out and just hung limply in the iron grip; tears falling down my face. _No,_ I sobbed, _please no. _

"Sshh. Sssh. Everything is going to be alright. You're safe here. You're safe."

_What? _Looking up, I saw that the soothing words and strong arms belonged to none other than Connor.

"What is wrong Sophie? What has frightened you so?" His grip loosened enough for me to turn and glance back toward the clearing. I saw two new horses tied to a tree near the road, but no searchers in sight. Instead I saw a flash of red-orange hair bobbing around the camp that I had not noticed before.

"Was it the horses, is that what scared you? You're afraid of horses?" He asked gently, kneeling down to my level.

Shaking my head no, I viciously swiped at the wetness on my cheeks before trying to return to camp; so ashamed of my irrational behavior. But he was not letting me go.

"Sophie, something scared you, now I'm not letting you go until you tell me what it was so we can avoid things like this in the future. Now, it was before the riders came into view, but after we could hear the horses. . . that's it. Someone is looking for you, aren't they? The person who did this to you?" I couldn't answer him, even shake my head, I couldn't believe that I had already been found out. "Who is it, Sophie? Who's looking for you, an abusive father, or guardian, the person who you're apprenticed to?" He had not come near, and I wasn't about to inform him of the real identity of the person who had held me captive for so long. "Sophie, just know that whoever it is, we'll keep you safe. We'll protect you. You're one of us now, and we take care of our own." His words touched me, even if they weren't true. I knew that this rag-tag band was no match for a mentally unstable king, but I couldn't help throwing my arms around him, a gesture that was both foreign and strangely comforting to me.

"That's enough of that. Now how's about I go introduce you to the last member of our group. He and Evan were out yesterday scouting a nearby village for parts for one of the wagons." He started to lead the way back when he turned and spoke the words that would change my life. "Oh, and if you like I could teach you how to fight properly. I firmly believe that a girl should be able to protect herself, and it's best to start when you're young." He smiled a half smile. I nodded my head emphatically. I couldn't believe that this rough and tough soldier was going to spend part of his time teaching me. _Me!_

"So I'll take that as a yes? Good. Practices will start tomorrow morning at false dawn." A little heartened, I walked with Connor back to the fire.

As soon as Fiona caught sight of me, she rushed over and knelt down in front of me, brushing my hair from my face and patting my arms and face, all the while barraging me with questions.

"Oh, Sophie, what happened? Where'd ya go? Ye gave me quite a scare ther'. Tha way ya took off, a body would've thought the very demons of Hell were after ya."

A little startled by the display of concern, I froze, a mixture of confusion and fear showing plainly on my features. Thankfully, Connor, once again, came to my recue.

"Leave her be Fiona, she's just had a scare is all. Nothing to worry yourself over."

"Ach, Connor, enough dallyin', git yerself over and help Evan with the wagon so we can be gittin' along. Go on, I'll be doin the introductions. Shoo!" She said making the same motions toward him as one would use to shoo a fly.

Gently she placed a hand on my back and guided me toward a strange boy of approximately the same age as myself, perhaps a year or two older, who was diligently brushing down a splendid pair of dappled horses.

"Jaissen; look alive boy, this 'ere's Sophie. She'll be bunkin' in your wagon from now on an' I don' wanna 'ear no guff from ya neither, clear?" She stared him down.

"M'am, yes m'am!" and he saluted smartly.

"Ay, you cheeky little rat." She gave his cropped hair an affectionate tousle. "Now Sophie, this be Jaissen. Another like yerself. I'll let him tell ya how he came to be here though. I'll let ye get acquainted now." As she left, I took a moment to study the boy standing before me. He was tall, promising to be over six feet tall by the time he finished growing. Skinny and pale, the freckles on his face and the fiery color of his hair made him an almost comical figure. Glancing up, he shifted nervously from foot to foot. I tried to reassure him with a look, and it seemed to help.

"Well," he said, finally mustering enough courage to speak, "As ya heard, I'm Jaissen Stash. Been here for, eh a couple a years now. Came here when I was nine. A runaway too, I guess you'd call me. I was 'prenticed to a tanner, but when he couldn' pay his debts, an' when his debtors came a collectin', he threw me at them and said it was his payment. Oddly enough, they accepted that. I knew then that I was in deep shi-er-take and I ran as soon as I saw the opportunity. Ben found me a few days later, half-starved and three-quarters dead and I've been here ever since. I help Evan with the horses whenever I can. I'd like to get a job in the Royal Stables of Gherling one day. They breed the best horses in all of the Five Kingdoms." The enthusiasm that he put into that last sentence, and the dreamy look in his eyes, really had me hoping that he got his chance. This was a person that could take the worst situation and find the humor in it. Someone you could be yourself around. I found I couldn't help the grin that was fast spreading across my face.

"So. . .Evan was saying on the way here that you don't know Traveller yet?" I shook my head no. "Well, what're we waitin on? I can start ta teach ya right now. Fiona's busy and Mary's not the most patient teacher, if ya know what I mean. I can at least show ya the alphabet while we're getting your stuff moved into my wagon. Sound good?" I nodded emphatically. "Ok, let's go."

"Moving" mostly involved shoving the assortment of boxes and crates around to make room for another small chest of drawers that bolted into the side of the wagon to keep it from moving and retrieving another hammock from the supply wagon. Yes, you heard me right . . . a hammock. I had never seen any of the accursed things, but they didn't look too hard. My first attempt at laying down resulted in me, flat on my face, with Jaissen laughing hystericaly. It was all I could do not to haul off and hit him. But I figured that would send the wrong impression.

While we worked Jaissen made good on his promise to teach me the Traveller alphabet. The letters A-H while we moved furniture. I-P, while I inspected my new quarters and found them to be comfortable, if lacking in that female touch. I didn't really mind. The battered tin soldiers and other miscellaneous toys that occupied the higher shelves fascinated me. I made a mental note to have him show me how to play with them all, and soon. And, finally, Q-Z as I was making my first pitiful attempts to learn how to sleep in a hammock. By mid-afternoon I was slowly manipulating my fingers to painstakingly spell out words. By dinner time I was forming complete sentences.

I couldn't help but want to show off my newfound ability. So, when Fiona kindly refilled my bowl with stew I, with a smug smile, carefully raised my right hand and thanked her. She almost dropped her pot, she was so startled. Then she burst out laughing and pulled me into a bone crushing hug.

"Lands! I never thought to see it! Complete sentences, and on yer first day a learnin'. Either that boy's a better teacher than any a usn's thought, or you're brilliant. And personally, Jaissen's not that bright, if ya catch my meanin" she winked at me. "Mary'll never believe it. Let's surprise 'er in tha mornin'. Now get you off to bed. We'll clean up here. Ye've had a busy day." She didn't need to tell me twice. Within minutes I was in my hammock, it only took me four tries, and fast asleep with an elated smile gracing my features.


End file.
